


things you don't see in waking hours

by cptsuke



Series: i met my king young [2]
Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, M/M, Night Terrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: Late nights, night terrors and none of them should be old enough to be dealing with this





	

**Author's Note:**

> another small nothing. still processing my team ny feels. im unsure why this processing require me to add vague magic to the dynamic. but here we are.  
> please do not treat a concussion like this & let me know if any warnings need to be added into the tags.

Benny sees Meyer take a lead pipe to the back of the head and keep fighting.

Benny goes for the guy and his fucking pipe, beats Charlie to it. Snatches the pipe off the guy and smacks it up into his nose as he struggles to keep grip. Catches the guy across the cheekbone with a wide swing when Benny finally wrestles it free. Skin splits and blood pours from his face and Benny wonders if he'll lose the eye, hopes he fucking does.

After everyone's run off, blood on every knuckle and Meyer's knees giving up on him, Charlie and Benny had dragged him back to the office where he'd curled up on the couch with blood still stiffening in his hair. And that would've been the end of the story.

But.

It's late night edging into early _early_ morning and the sound of breaking glass from the street outside, Benny thinks that's what wakes him.

But there's an empty spot between him and Charlie on the couch where there'd been a Meyer when Benny had closed his eyes, and suddenly a hand comes out of the dark, grabs his coat and drags him to the floor.

_You've got to be quiet_.

Meyer's pupils are blown but uneven in the night's gloom, one dark iris a ring or two wider than the other sliver of dark. He's looking around but Benny's doesn't think he's seeing anything. Not anything that's actually here right now anyway.

The hand on his chest isn't pressing down very hard, but Benny can't move, feels like he can barely breathe. Something's filled the room, like a Winter's frost come to ice through the cracks in the floor boards.

He'd breathe fog if he could breathe at all and Meyer is very still.

At the other end of the couch Charlie sleeps on like the dead.

Benny briefly entertains the idea that he's died in this frost, but then Charlie heaves a sigh, shifts, and something that feels like relief threads through Benny.

He's never seen Meyer like this.

Seen the maybe after's, nights where Meyer hasn't slept, mornings he's cooler than usual.

Charlie must have seen him like this – he must have with all the time they spent together – and Benny thinks maybe he should wake him, because he doesn't know what to do.

But he can't move.

_Quiet_. Meyer whispers again, lips barely moving as the noises out on the street filter through wall and window.

And Benny's not freaking out – _he's not_ – but he can't feel any static in his fingertips, can't feel any burn in his blood, _can't feel._

He could count on on hand how many times Meyer held him back - actually used his power on him – and Benny would still have more than enough fingers left to flip someone off. Even then, it'd never felt nothing like this. Soothing not suffocating.

_Mey?_ He's never felt unsure before, not like this. Something that feels like a cousin of panic claws at his throat because Meyer's calmed him before, soothed his magic to a calm roar, but he's never _killed_ it before.

Benny doesn't think he can do this. He can't feel anything, nothing inside, nothing out. Charlie's not three feet from them and _Benny can't feel him_. Can't feel an ocean that overwhelms even him some time.

More glass breaks outside and Meyer's head snaps towards the sound.

_Mey_ , he says again, trying to convince his arms to work.

He doesn't know what to do. Meyer's going to hate this. If he wakes up right now and knows Benny's seen him like this.

But the silence, the numbness that replaces the _everything_ Benny usually feels, it's suffocating him.

What the fuck does Charlie do when he gets like this?

What would Charlie do?

He brings his hands up to Meyer's face, grips it's sides and says _I ain't fucking doing that!_

Says it loud and can't help the mad laughter that breaks free, laughing at the whole situation.

Meyer blinks, something in the room's Winter loosens, lessens, falters, and maybe Benny's been going about this wrong.

_Come on, it's me, you dumb fuck,_ He says, slapping Meyer lightly (lightly, lightly) almost petting because Meyer looks wide eyed and scared and Benny has no idea what to do with _that_. 

_Come asshole, it's Benny_ he says, turning Meyer's head back, so if his eyes ever start seeing again, if they start focusing again, it'll be Benny he'll see.

A woman screams and Benny feels Meyer's entire body jolt, and he can't fucking move again.

_Shut the fuck up_ , Benny mutters. New York's streets at night don't usually bother him none, Benny usually loves the mad lawlessness that the darkness of night brings in. But it'd be fucking helpful right now if everyone outside just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

_Stay down Jake,_ Meyer's hands are heavy on Benny's chest, fingers curling in fabric, pressing him into the floorboards and Benny wraps his hands around bony wrists. Speaks calm like he almost never does.

_You gotta let me up, Mey._

_It's not safe._ Meyer's jaw is clenched and twitching. Stress? Anger? Fear?

_Safe?_ Benny laughs, maniacal edge and all, _Meyer. We'll kill anyone who gets in our way._

Meyer doesn't say anything, but his face shutters through more emotions than it ever would in waking hours, and somehow Benny knows he's getting through.

_Come on,_ he says, pushing up and finding he can finally actually _push_. Meyer's heavier than he looks but he's still a little guy, and Benny manages to get him to shift a little so he's not completely crushing Benny.  _It's me, it's Benny._

_Benny?_ He sounds confused and _Meyer_ sounding like that is a knife to the gut.

_Yeah, it's me, ya idiot._ Benny's words are harsh but his hands, well, he's trying to be gentle. He's not good at soothing, Benny's an agitator – which has many uses, most of which he loves – but right now he's at a loss.

_Charlie?_

_For fuck's sake_ , Benny lets his head drop back against the floor with a thunk and a half amused snort. _He's fine. He's fucking sleeping **like a goddamned jerk** but he's fine._

Charlie doesn't even twitch as Benny's voice raises to an almost yell, like a fucking asshole, but Meyer looks satisfied, worry draining.

Benny gets him up, back on the couch, tries to settle him, ends up pulling him close, wrapping arms around Meyer so he can feel his ragged breathing and the stiffness in Meyer's spine lessen maybe just a bit.

_Go to sleep, just,_ _fucking_ _,_ _just_ he pats Meyer's head trying to remember his Ma's warm hands from when he was very small and woke screaming because it _hurt._ Benny's fingers come back rusty, but Meyer breathing seems to be settling, slowing. _Sleep._

  


In the morning he'll be up and smoking his third cigarette before rest of them stir. He'll not mention a thing, and Benny will always wonder what he remembers.

And if Meyer's hands are softer, if his touches linger longer than they might usually, Benny just enjoys the extra affection and doesn't say a goddamned thing.

Like seeing a god struck low, it's not supposed to happen, so Benny resolves to forget. It never happened.

There's a lot of things in Benny's life that never happened.

  



End file.
